Calling Salvation
by hardly loquacious
Summary: You need her.  You allways have.  Even if you sometimes foolishly pretend you don't.    You need him.  You always have.  Even if you sometimes blindly convince yourself you don't.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: The following was written for girlsavesboyfic, a comm whose goals I feel are fairly self-evident. The girl had to save the boy. Anyway, I heard about the comm and then immediately wanted to write Mentalist fic for it. So I wrote this. It's post S3 finale, and slightly AU now. It's also a sequel to "Judge Not" and "Conviction." It's set up the same way as the earlier two fic, except this one has two chapters, one for each Jane and Lisbon.

Dedicated to Ebony10. Because she was right. The story wasn't quite done.

I hope you enjoy it.

xxx

Part 1: JANE

.

You run after her.

Okay, you don't actually _run_, but you do try and walk fast, chasing her through the crowded room, constantly blocked by people who want to congratulate you, send you a friendly smile.

You don't care.

'Not guilty's' not so important anymore.

You need to catch up to her.

You _need_ to.

You reach her right before she reaches the door to slip outside. She stops when you call her name.

Turns.

.

_Lisbon, wait. Wait a second._

.

She doesn't say anything.

Not a thing.

A mask.

You see a mask over her face. It's a good one, but it's there. You're getting _Agent Lisbon_, the consummate professional.

That's _all_ you're getting.

But that's not the worst part.

(_Oh it's not near the worst part, the knots in your stomach tell you._)

The worst part is the parody of a smile she sends your way at the same time.

It's chilling.

.

_Guess you convinced them. Guess you got what you wanted. Guess you won._

.

Ignoring her empty congratulations, you reach for her, desperate for something genuine.

That's when it happens.

The mask slips. Flinches really.

She actually flinches away from you.

Then you're the one who pulls your hand back like you've been burned.

You can't do this, not like this.

You try to explain.

.

_I.. I didn't like jail. It was inconvenient... I didn't want..._

.

You don't get very far.

The words clog in your throat.

She's got that ghastly smile back on her face again. The one she gives to politely dismiss a problem she never had any intention of engaging with in the first place.

(Lisbon's always been good at burying her head in the sand when it suits her.)

And then, just when you thought it couldn't get worse, it does.

So much worse.

And she doesn't even realize.

Maybe she doesn't even care.

She says something to you before she slips out the door, abandoning you to the approaching press.

Just one sentence, that's all it takes.

You're sure she doesn't mean her words to be sarcastic, but you hear them that way all the same.

Because she _flinched._

.

_Congratulations on your victory Jane. You deserve it._

.

You're not sure what to do.

For the first time in a long time, you're not sure what to do.

How can you fix this?

You have to fix this.

You...

You...

No.

Forget you.

_Her._

But before you can follow, the reporters find you, asking questions you no longer want to answer.

.

_Mr. Jane! A moment of your time, Mr. Jane! Tell us, how does it feel to be a free man again?_

.

You find her later, at work.

You try to stick to her like glue.

You try to stay on your best behaviour.

You try to help her.

You're fairly certain it only makes her more suspicious.

.

_No Jane, I don't need a coffee. And no, I don't need you to read this file. Why are you offering to read a file?_

.

You really do try for a while.

You really do.

Then it happens. You screw up.

You piss off the wrong person, and she has to run in and smooth things over.

A lot.

Later, after the man has stalked off in slightly less of a huff, she pulls you aside.

She's far from gentle with you as she yells.

You're not entirely sure you deserve all the verbal abuse you're getting for what you did today, but you don't care. You'll take it.

It's the first time her mask has slipped in weeks.

And anyway, you both know that this most recent PR screw-up's not what she's really yelling at you for.

.

_Jane! I can't believe you! What do you think, you don't have to obey the rules? That you can just swoop in whenever the hell you want to? That it'll all just be okay? I wish you'd think for a second before you did these things! You know what, forget it. Never mind. I'll take care of it. Just, just sit down and shut up for a while, would you?_

.

You didn't mean to make her angry.

You just wanted to get her attention again.

.

You wanted to make her see you.

Before, she was always the only one who did.

Now she's not even looking.

.

_Morning Rigsby, Cho. Hey Van Pelt. Hope you guys had a... Oh, hi Jane. _

.

She's upset today.

And surprisingly not at you.

Something's happened.

You're not sure what, but you'd bet everything you own that it's one of her brothers.

She's worried.

She needs a friend.

You're not sure she has one. Not since...

Not the right kind anyway.

You try to stand next to her, though you deliberately don't reach for her.

(Even though you really want to. Just a hand on her shoulder, or the small of her back, or around her wrist. But you restrain yourself.)

You're terrified she'll pull away again.

You can't handle that.

.

You only realize that you could have handled it after it's too late.

You could have handled her lashing out at you if it made her feel better.

You realize you'd do almost anything to make things alright for her.

She deserves to have things be alright.

.

_You didn't have to bring me a bear claw Jane. I'm a big girl. I can feed myself._

.

But you can't make things right.

You can't fix this.

So you do what you can.

You distract.

It often doesn't work.

She pushes you away.

Actually, she doesn't push. That implies far more effort on her part than what she actually does.

Which is even worse.

You don't deal with it well.

.

_Good morning Lisbon. I'd ask you how your evening was, but that seems pointless given that you'll just tell me it was fine._

.

Enough is enough.

What's the point of being good when it only makes things worse?

The next case you slip away to conduct a few _private_ interviews.

Playing by the rules isn't working.

Neither is pestering her.

You need some distance.

And you're not going to let her see your doubts.

You have your pride.

.

You come up with a new plan.

You'll make her chase you.

And she does, as you knew she would.

She can't help herself.

After all, you disappeared on _her_ watch.

.

As expected, she yells at you when she finds you.

You don't mind though.

Because there's a spark in her eye again. She's enjoying herself.

And that makes you happy.

Even though you know she still hates you.

.

_Jane! Where the hell have you been? I've been looking all over for you! ...no idea where you were, you, you lunatic!_

.

So you keep disobeying orders, keep her on her toes.

Because when she does catch up (or sometimes even outsmarts you), it's the only time she looks alive.

It's the only time she looks like your Lisbon again.

No.

Not yours.

Never yours again.

You wish you'd realized that sooner.

Now that everything's different.

.

_Ah, Lisbon. There you are. I was hoping you'd join us. Now before you yell at me, perhaps you'd care to hear how I've just solved our case._

.

You can make her angry, that's all.

You're not her friend. You're not her confidante or her comforter.

And you still can't touch her.

Not even accidentally.

.

You can let her keep you alive though.

You can give her that.

She needs people to depend on her.

She needs people to take care of, even if they're not good for her.

(Maybe especially then.)

Lisbon likes protecting people.

It's what she lives for.

Makes her feel useful, maybe even makes up for the times (the people) in her past that she couldn't save.

So you let her try to save you.

You hope it helps her sleep at night.

At least one of you should.

.

_One, two, three... Who decided counting sheep was effective anyway? Work's going to be exhausting tomorrow, but what does it matter? She won't notice._

.

Then you get yourself in real danger.

It wasn't even your fault this time.

This wasn't a test for her benefit.

You were being careful. You didn't do anything stupid. For once.

You really didn't.

And this happened anyway.

You're scared.

.

_Hi god. I don't really think you're up there, but Lisbon does. Sometimes. And I think you'll agree that she's the important one here. So even though I don't deserve it, if by some infinitesimal chance you are actually up there... Well, you see, if something happens to me, she'll..._

.

Part of you is worried that she won't come.

You don't deserve her coming.

But you want her to come. More than anything in the world.

Partly because you really don't want to die at the hands of a common criminal.

Partly because you know if she doesn't come, she will blame herself for the rest of her life for letting this happen to you.

Saving the people of California is what she does.

Not saving you will destroy her.

You can't stand the thought of that.

.

_It's my job to protect you. My team, my responsibility. It's on me._ _It's always on me_.

.

She comes.

With time to spare.

You're so relieved you forget to pretend you don't need her.

You forget to pretend that she doesn't have the power to destroy you with a single look.

You forget to pretend that you're indifferent now.

Funny thing is, so does she. She looks panicked.

You really wish you hadn't caused that.

Then you're glad you did.

Because she's the one to run to you. She's the one to untie you. She's the one to scold you (though this time you can tell that she's not actually angry).

She's only doing it to reassure herself that you're actually there.

Her panicked litany loosens your own throat.

Nothing's changed, not really.

But you say it anyway.

Even though there's nothing you could have done differently.

.

_I'm sorry, Lisbon._

.

She mutters something about how you just can't help yourself. She's used to that.

You reach for her wrist the second your hands are free and you still her nervous fidgeting.

This time there is no flinch.

Instead, you feel her fingers tentatively turn to twist lightly through your own. It's only a ghost of a touch, but it's more than you ever thought you'd feel again.

Then you see her eyes, still filled with traces of fading panic

They're filled with something else as well.

At first you don't even care what it is; it's a genuine emotion, and that's good.

That's better than good.

Then your heart starts beating again and you calm yourself enough to recognize it.

You can't stop staring at those green eyes, trying to figure out what's swirling behind them.

It's not acceptance but it's also not hatred.

It's a million different things. Frustration, irritation, a little bit of uncertainty.

You could examine it for hours and never get tired of it. Because for the first time since your trial, when you look in her eyes you see Lisbon.

_Your_ Lisbon.

You see concern, and that wonderful understanding you've only ever seen in her, and…

And maybe even a hint of affection.

You smile.

You watch her valiantly try to contain her own grin in return.

But a bit of it slips out anyway.

You feel calm for the first time in months.

You feel like something might be okay.

She fixed it, somehow.

And you say the only thing that seems appropriate, under the circumstances.

.

_My hero._

.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the second part. Hope you enjoy!

xxx

Part 2: LISBON

.

Not guilty.

Not guilty.

How?

You know it wasn't your decision, you've accepted that.

(Or you thought you had.)

But you just, you don't _understand_.

Part of you is unbelievably pleased that he's not spending the rest of his life in jail.

(Okay, most of you.)

But a part of you is angry.

No.

Not angry.

Betrayed.

.

_Quiet! Silence in the court!_

.

You're not saying anything.

But you're not staying either.

.

You hear him chasing after you. You hear him call your name.

You figure you may as well listen to what he has to say.

This man who's nothing but pleased that he managed to cheat the system again.

You saw his face when that verdict was read out.

He was triumphant.

Of course he was.

He never had any respect for the rules anyway.

You wonder how he manages not to feel guilty about anything.

You wonder if he ever gets tired of bending and breaking everything he touches.

Even the legal system you've worked for your entire life.

.

_Congratulations on your victory Jane. You deserve it._

.

You're not sure how to work with him anymore.

You thought you could accept the court's decision, whatever it was.

You thought you were fine with it.

But it turns out, you're not.

You're not sure how to just, _move on_ from the fact that he shot someone.

You're not sure what to do about that.

You certainly didn't do a good job dealing with it the last time something like this happened with your partner.

Last time you found a whole new job.

Not this time.

This time you're staying.

If anyone's leaving, it's going to be him.

Come to think of it, why is he still here?

With Red John supposedly dead there's nothing to keep him.

.

_No thank you Jane. I don't want any coffee. I've already had two cups this morning. Right now I need to get this done, so if you could just leave me in peace..._

.

He doesn't leave though.

He follows you, without ever really following you.

He's always just _there_, just outside of your direct line of sight.

You're not sure what to make of it, this strangely docile Jane.

It's like he's trying not to cause trouble.

If it was anyone else you'd think it was meant to be an apology, this oddly compliant behaviour.

Not to mention the bear claws you find hidden in your desk every Friday.

You don't trust it though.

You don't trust any of it.

You're pretty sure this contrition's as phony as the rest of him.

.

_Thanks Jane, but the only insight I'm interested in from you is related to this case._

.

You know you're taking your frustrations out on him. But you don't care.

He certainly doesn't.

You know him.

He watches the world behind those damn detached eyes of his.

He watches people, and then decides how to use them to get what he wants.

You know it doesn't matter to him what the world thinks.

You know he doesn't care what he leaves behind.

You're sick of showing him what he needs to see.

Being a chess piece for him to play with is bad enough.

You'd rather he didn't pretend that you meant any more than that.

.

Or maybe deep down you just want to hurt him.

(Though you're not entirely sure you can.)

.

He hurt you.

One too many times.

And you're not getting involved anymore.

.

_I can assure you Sir, Mr. Jane and I have a completely professional relationship._

.

He's your employee.

Your consultant.

Just your consultant.

But apparently Jane didn't get that memo.

.

_Ah. Lisbon. There you are. Our friend Mr. Murray here would like to lodge a complaint._

.

You knew it couldn't last.

(Knew it _wouldn't_ last.)

You knew it was only a matter of time before Jane was back to his old tricks and pissing off the world.

One day, one case, you swear he just explodes, just goes nuts.

You have to pacify three members of the victim's family in less than twenty-four hours.

You have to be the tactful one.

You always have to clean up the mess.

Always.

_That's your job._

.

_Jane! I can't believe you! What do you think, you don't have to obey the rules? That you can just swoop in whenever the hell you want to? That it'll all just be okay? I wish you'd think for a second before you did these things! You know what, forget it. Never mind. I'll take care of it. Just, just sit down and shut up for a while, would you?_

.

He's smirking at you.

The jerk.

Standing there, all cool and aloof, like nothing about this matters.

Like your anger is funny to him.

Part of you wants to punch him in the nose.

Part of you refuses to give him the satisfaction, wants to walk calmly away and try and ignore him.

And an almost nonexistent part of you trying to make itself heard whispers that this yelling at him is the first time things have felt even remotely normal in weeks.

.

_Lisbon is something bothering..._

_I'm fine, Jane. We've got work to do._

.

Everything is wrong.

Your life is going to hell in a hand-basket.

Your brother just called.

Steve. The supposedly stable one.

He's just told you that he and his wife are considering a trial separation.

They have two kids.

Your nieces.

You don't know what to say.

There's nothing you can say.

You're tired of the never-ending clamour in your brain.

Everything's wrong.

Absolutely everything's wrong.

Life is completely horrible.

And nobody cares.

Nobody cares.

Not even...

.

_Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been years since my last confession, but I really need someone to talk to..._

.

Jane is changing.

The two of you are stiff with each other.

Stiff and painful.

Jane seems to take delight in antagonizing people, more so than usual.

At least it's not that horrible, phony cooperativeness.

At least putting out the fires gives you something to do.

You don't feel quite so ineffectual.

Ironically, yelling at Jane's the only time you forget what your life's become.

It's the only time you feel like you're holding anything together.

It's the only time you feel like yourself.

.

_You've got the impulse control of a six year old, you know that? Don't you ever get sick of outsmarting the world?_

.

You try to pretend that you're not lonely.

You try to pretend that your job's as fulfilling as it used to be.

You try to pretend that you don't mind not having a social life because of it.

You try to pretend you can still be a normal person.

You try to pretend that you don't miss having friends.

You try to pretend that it's not really just one friend in particular.

You try to pretend that you never thought that's what he was.

You try to pretend that's not really why you're hurting.

Sometimes you even try to pretend that you're not angry anymore.

That you've moved on.

Don't care.

That you're done.

(You wish it were true.)

.

He obviously doesn't consider your feelings.

Doesn't care how things affect you.

You're not sure he cares about anything.

That's your story at least.

.

_Jane._

_Lisbon. I..._

_I can't talk right now. I have a meeting._

_Of course you do._

.

He's not as good as he thinks he is at outsmarting the world.

He's not as good at outsmarting you.

You can keep up with him most of the time.

Which is lucky for the CBI.

And really, damage control after the fact's your job.

How else would you describe being a cop?

It's not like you can save someone before their life's destroyed.

You can only find the criminal afterwards.

Just like you can clean up Jane's messes.

Usually.

.

_I know that sir... Yes, I know, believe me I know. But he closes a lot of cases._

.

You fully expect to walk in one day and find that he's burned the whole place down.

You're not sure how he'd do it, and he'd probably have some cockamamie explanation, but the way his head's been screwed on lately, it's exactly what you expect.

You see the judgement in his eyes when you refuse to go out for drinks with the rest of the team.

You see the irritation when you don't laugh at his horrible attempt at a joke.

You see the triumph when he manages to irritate you.

You can see the wheels turning, every time you get a case, wondering what game he can play.

You consider resolving not to chase him next time, but you know you'd never stick to it.

After all, he is still on your team.

That means something.

Even after all this time.

He's still your responsibility.

Still yours to try and save.

.

You know you should try to stop doing that.

But when you do, it makes everything worse.

Protecting people's all you have now.

Protecting him...

.

_Because he's my consultant! No, I haven't seen him in the last few hours. I assuming he's interviewing the victim's ex-wife. Why? What? No... No!_

.

You have to get there in time.

You have to get there in time.

You _will _get there in time.

It's your job.

You won't allow for failure here.

Not about this.

Oh God.

How has Jane managed to get himself kidnapped again?

How did you not see this coming?

You have to get there.

It's your job to look after him.

.

_Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord be with you. Blessed art thou among women..._

.

There he is.

You can see him.

He's okay.

He's alive.

You can feel his body heat as you untie his hands.

You weren't too late.

You weren't too late.

You were supposed to make sure this never happened to him.

.

_I'm sorry._

.

You're shocked to realize that you're not the one who says it.

You look up at his eyes.

And you see him.

For the first time in weeks, it feels like you see him.

Your Jane.

He's hurting.

And not because his hands have been tied for the better part of two hours.

A sob clogs in your throat.

.

You're supposed to protect him.

Why won't he ever let you do that?

Right now he's barely even looking at you.

Then you're lecturing him before you know what you're doing.

.

… _never known a man who gets kidnapped as many times as you do! And I suppose you probably got held at gunpoint again. Just once I would like it if you couldn't piss people off. Just once I'd like…_

.

But you're not sure that you would like it.

Bosco once told you that you can't live your life trying to save everyone else. That in the end, it'll destroy you.

Bosco never quite understood that part though.

Jane's looking at you now.

Actually he's staring at you.

Neither of you looks away this time.

.

You see his eyes.

Eyes so different than your last partner's.

Eyes that (unlike Sam's) never pretended to be anything other than what they are.

Broken and fallible and sometimes vengeful, but right now just sad. Lonely.

And searching.

He's searching your eyes.

(Just as you're searching his.)

You swear you see them change the second he finds something.

He slips his fingers around your wrist.

And the noise in your brain finally stills.

.

You find something too.

You got to him in time.

You saved him.

For a little while at least.

But that's okay.

You'll keep saving him.

For as long as he needs it.

It's who you are.

It's what you do.

It's what you need.

.

_My hero._

.

You smile, even if only in your mind.

You tighten your grip on his hand.

Turns out Bosco had it wrong all these years.

Turns out you don't follow traditional rules either.

Turns out there's more than one way to save someone.

This is yours.

And you deserve to be saved just as much as anybody else.

.

_Come on Jane. Let's get back to the office. I'll drive. _

_Can we stop for some fruit on the way there? _

_Only if you buy me strawberries._

_Sure._

_Okay then._

_Thank you, Lisbon._

_You're welcome._

_._

The End


End file.
